“I thought you said we didn’t have to talk.”
His voice is deadpan. “I lied.”
I cross my legs. “Shocking.”
An entire minute passes by without a word, and I am grateful for the silence. Well, the physical silence, at least. As always, we are communicating with our eyes. Our gazes clash on the surface of the rearview mirror, daring the other to back down, saying all of the things that our mouths dare not voice.
Heath speaks first.
“So, what? Is this going to be like it was those first few days back in New York? Not speaking? Not telling each other the truth? Is that the new plan?”
“What am I supposed to say to you?”
“Anything. Say what you feel, what you think.”
“What I think? What am I supposed to think?” I explode at him. “It seems all you did was plan. Plan and plot on what to do with me. Try to figure out how I was going to fit into your designs.”
His brown eyes blaze with latent heat, growing intense—outraged in a matter of seconds.
“I didn’t plan this, Keats. No matter what you think. I didn’t plan to make a bet about you. I didn’t plan to run my father’s firm. I didn’t plan on wanting you as my wife, Violet.”
He continues driving, his body frozen as he shifts gears. “But I do.”
On the last syllable, we pass by my brownstone. Sliding through my periphery, it comes and goes like an imagined ghost. Maybe I am imagining it. But to be honest, right now? I can’t even care.
For the first time in my life, I am shocked into utter silence.
HEATH
The words go flying out of my mouth before I can tether them down.
Violet’s eyes grow scarily wide, and her lips part in surprise. Her hair is wild and wavy again, thanks to the rain. Her skin is smooth, damp and dewy, and her lips –those fucking lips –are swollen and so unbelievably kissable.
She’s gorgeous. She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Even when she’s scowling…like she is at me this very second.
“How dare you?” she rasps.
“How dare you say that to me? After everything? After you tried to sucker me into some twisted scheme? I don’t even know who you are, Heath.” She shakes her head, causing wisps of wet hair to go flying sideways.
“And I’m not going to be a pawn in one of your little games anymore,” she says, her voice rising. “I’ll admit: I had my faults. Huge, glaring faults…and I wasn’t blameless. But that does not excuse you passing me around like some little toy, like some…some tiny piece in a competitive chess match with your father or David. What next? You going to put me on the streets? Prostitute me out to the highest bidder?” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. She shakes her head and sorrow replaces the anger. “How do I know that you won’t hurt me, Heath?”
The force of her sadness hits me like a blow across the face. Every step that I’ve taken under these circumstances, every move that I’ve made has been with her in mind. Making sure that she’s alright. Making sure that she’s safe.
It’s the thought that has kept me going…even when I wanted to give up. But I’m done rolling over.
I stop the car abruptly, pulling curbside and cutting the ignition. Jumping out into the pouring cold rain, I open the back door so that I can sit beside her in the leather seat. She scoots over as I enter, putting as much space between us as possible. I close the distance quickly, hovering over her so that she can hear my every word.
“I can’t promise that I won’t…” I grab the sides of her face, smoothing my hand along her silky skin. I take a deep breath. “I can’t promise that you won’t wake up some mornings wanting to smack me. I can’t promise that you won’t walk into the kitchen on some shitty day and want to chuck the fucking frying pan at my head. I can’t promise that you won’t think about plotting my death…” I grin. “What I can promise you is a husband who loves you. A husband who will spend every last aching breath making sure that each second of your life is better than the last. I can promise you a husband who will never stop making sure he’s worthy of you, whenever he can. I can promise you a husband who will never stop betting on us. On love.” I swallow. “Violet Keats… You are a part of me. A part of whatever wicked soul I once had. You are a part of whatever I once was, and whatever man I will grow to be.”
Violet closes her eyes, growing still. She is so quiet that I’m not even sure she is still breathing at this point. I continue talking.
“You are everything I never knew I needed. Everything I could have ever hoped for… I’m so sorry I did hurt you. I can’t say it enough. I’m not going to promise that I won’t hurt you, Violet… or that we won’t hurt each other.” I touch her pointed chin. “I’m going to promise that I’ll be right there to help you heal if and when we do.”
My chest heaves from squeezing so hard.
I’ve been holding onto the words I needed to say to Violet for so long that I was afraid that they had festered within me and died. She remains quiet, her eyelids still drawn downward. Her dark lashes create a shadow just above her cheeks, and I’m dying to kiss her there to feel them flutter.
I want to run my fingers through her flowing hair. Put my nose near her neck and just breathe. Undress her out of those wet clothes. Warm her up…the right way.
But in the middle of my fantasy, she responds. She finally opens her eyes.
“Is that it?” Her eyes are open wide, revealing pale blue hues with flecks of gold I hadn’t noticed until now. Completely innocent.
I nod. “Yes.”
“You want to make me your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Tequila?”
I stare at her, smiling. “If you’ll let me.”
She kisses me, pulling me against her, her tiny palms framing my face. I’m lost for words as I kiss her back, sucking her tongue gently between my teeth, and when I swallow her tiny moan, she pulls back, a tear forming in the corner of her eyes. I almost kiss it away.
I lift one eyebrow. “Is that a yes, Violet Keats?”
She grins with glistening eyes. “That’s a maybe.” Her smile widens. “Ask me again in three months. No Mr. Sparrow. No Mr. Tequila. Just Heath.”
I smile back. “You would have better luck with Mr. Tequila. He would have spelled out his proposal with his tongue.”
Violet blushes. “There’s no reason he can’t do a trial-run now, though.”
I kiss her lips, letting my mouth show her that she’s mine. And always will be. “No reason at all.”
I hold her hand to my heart, letting her feel its beat. Just for her.
One. Two.
Epilogue
VIOLET
One month later
“Tank! Get out of the kitchen!” I hear screeching through the air. The sound of doggy paws follows, running fast.
A sloppy grin comes careening around the corner, and I stop the gray and white beast of a dog with my hands, reaching out to pet his short fur.
I crouch at the knee. I’m thanked with a slobbery rain of puppy kisses, and when I finally stand, extracting myself from the lovable American Bully in my arms, I find the love of my life several feet away, smirking, his full lips spreading over his handsome face.